The Inside
by Eines Zwei Drei
Summary: AU. What if in the pilot it wasen't Ryan's first time in lockup? Or his last?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of the OC, i'm just addicted.

**A/N**: This is of course AU, I borrowed a bit of dialogue from the pilot, but starting in the next chapter it will be veering off in a very different direction from the show.

Enjoy! If you love angsty Ryan, leave a review, because reviews make me motivated to write!

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Ryan looked around his surroundings, certainly nothing new. He knew every corner, every bar, every hard eyed stare. He had hoped never to see this place again. Yet somehow in the back of his mind, he always knew he would. The smell, hung in the air like a cloud. The smell of teenage boys, the smell of anger, resentment, hate. He shook his head just slightly. He knew, that you grew accustomed to the smell, after a few days.

His lawyer is sitting at the desk, surround by paper; his file. He cringed, oh god. He hated that file, it turned adults in the nicest creatures alive, but in a matter of seconds, they are realized that Ryan was not that battered little boy anymore, he couldn't be saved. They soon realized what Ryan figured out a long time ago, that the stuff in that file didn't mean shit.

"Ryan? Sandy Cohen, the courts have appointed me your public defender." Ryan sneered at him, and sat down.

"You could do worse." Sandy said.

Ryan couldn't think of how it could possibly get worse, he was going to be in jail until his 18th birthday, or perhaps even longer if they charged him as an adult. He had minimum 647 more days in lock up. Life fucking sucked.

Sandy perused the file.

"You okay? They treating you alright?"

Alright, was a relative term, Ryan thought.

"Where's my brother?" He still wasn't making eye contact. He had to be hard as nails to survive his next two years, he had to start practicing now.

"Trey's over 18, Trey stole a car, Trey had a gun in his pants and some pot in his jacket; a coupla priors, right now I'm guessing Trey is looking at 3-5 years. But Trey isn't my concern."

"Not your first time in lock up I see. You feeling at home? Because this is where you're gonna end up, if you don't smarten up." Ryan looked down. Smarten up? Did he look smart in his jumpsuit? No, he didn't think so.

"Let's see, you serve a three month suspended sentence in a security group home for possession of stolen goods. You were 14. Seven months after that, you served a 6 month sentence, right here, after they picked up in a raid in a chop shop. Possession of stolen goods, and an accomplice to grand theft auto. You miss this place Ryan?"

No, he hadn't missed this place. He hadn't missed the jumpsuits, smelling like carbolic soap, the craptastic food, or the fending for his life everyday. He hadn't missed this at all.

He shook his head.

"So what are you doing back?"

Ryan didn't say anything, what could he say. He was a punk ass kid. He knew that. He knew that Sandy Cohen could tell that, he had a fading bruise on his cheek, grease under his fingernails, his eyes were cold, much like his heart. He was going be a punk until he died.

"But listen kid, I can help you. You didn't steal that car. Your brother said, he talked you into it, forced I believe was the word he used. Now both you and I know that's not how it happened, but that's Trey's statement. You've had it rough, everyone has to catch a break sometime." Sandy gestured to the file. Ryan looked away. "But you're a smart kid, you're grades at Chino High are, well not good, but your test scores, 98 percentile? Your teachers in juvie wrote that you were a quiet kid, read alot, tried to stay out of trouble, but when you couldn't? You have a temper, and are willing to use your fists. But that doesn't mean anything to me, if you don't want this. So kid, do you want me to help you? Or do you want to go to jail. I'm not going to help you, if 3, 4 months from now you're gonna be back here. Have you give any thought to your future?"

Ryan snorted. His future? He didn't have one. He had his train wreck of a mother, an incarcerated father and brother, and his only friends were car thieves. How would he escape from his house at night, if he didn't have the chop shop to go to? If he didn't have 'Turo, Eddie, Josh and Juan? His life was a mess, working on cars, and hanging out with his friends, kept him sane. What else could he do, stay at home and get beat by AJ?

He wasn't making any promises, because he knew, even if Sandy managed to steal him some borrowed time, he'd be back.

Ryan, for the first time looked at him in the eyes.

"I ain't got one."

"Kid, don't give me that, I get you, we're cut from the same deck, I'm from the bad part of the Bronx, my father was gone, my mom worked all the time. I was pissed off, I was stupid."

"but look at you now." Ryan smirked. Sandy Cohen might have once been like him, but as he sat across from him wearing an Armani tie, and a Rolex watch, he knew that wasn't the case anymore. They weren't anything the same.


	2. Let Down

**Here it is part 2. Please review because remember my love for angst ryan only grows with reviews.**

**The next chapter will get to the good stuff. Stick with me. I'll make it worth your while.**

**I don't own the OC, or you'd be seeing some awesome angsty stuff on Thursday nights.**

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Ryan glanced around outside, and leaned on a post carefree. Last night at 11pm, surrounded by flashing lights and starring at a broken windscreen, Ryan has envisioned a life of hell in the San Bernardino county juvenile detention system. Never would he have guessed, less than 15 hours later, he would be in his old clothes, breathing in fresh air, with nothing but an arraignment and probation leering over his head.

No jumpsuits, no slip on shoes, no public showers, no mush for dinner. As he heard car tires screeching around the corner, his face changed.

Oh, shit.

It was certainly her. Driving all over the road, in that shitty grey clunker; the one thing in her life that never got repossessed.

He crept slowly backwards, away from the road, away from the car, away from his Mom.

The way she reacted the first time he got arrested?

Not so pretty.

Second time?

Ryan was actually happy to be trudging off to jail that time around.

Third time with Trey in Chino Penn for years?

He wanted to cringe at the beating he would get, unlike the other two times Dawn had AJ on her side now, what she couldn't do, he could.

She was drunk, but that was no surprise, it was Friday, already past 2pm. AJ's pay check had entered his account at midnight, the pair of them were probably buzzed by 10am.

"Unbelievable!" She stumbled out of the car, her bra strap hanging off her arm, her hair askew. "What did I do to deserve you?"

Sandy stepped in, partly in front of Ryan and for a second he was grateful for the slightest bit of protection.

"Mrs. Atwood? I'm Sandy Cohen, Ryan's attorney."

"Shoulda let him rot in there! Join your Dad and your brother! You ungrateful little shit, you're proud you're getting out this time? You don't goddamn deserve it."

She paused, as Ryan continued to shirk away, he hated his mother in this moment, but then again, he hated his mother a lot.

"Get in the fucking car Ryan!" There was no turning back now, he would be beaten up, thrown away trash by 6pm, he almost wished he had stayed in jail.

He opened the door, he could smell whiskey permeating off of her.

Suddenly Sandy was beside him offering him a card.

"I'm going to give you my card, with my home number, if you need somebody, if things get to be too much. Give me a call." Ryan wanted to scoff at him, too much? He had no fucking idea, how bad things were about to become. But he didn't, he simply accepted the card, sticking it in the back of his jeans, and sat down in the car.

His Mom drove erratically, silent. Her fuming, was like a fog and it was slowly engulfing both of them. Ryan would never admit it, he would keep his hard exterior to the day he died, but he was scared.

His mother hadn't said a word as she pulled into the driveway, running up onto the grass. He followed her dejectedly into the house.

AJ was watching TV; baseball full blast. There was a bottle of whiskey on the counter; Dawn was pouring herself a full glass.

"Ryan, I can't do this. I want you out."

He didn't know why he bothered protesting. "Mom? Where am I supposed to go?"

"You heard your mother get your shit and get out." AJ didn't even move his eyes from the screen.

"Fuck you, this isn't your house."

Ryan noticed too late the left overs of a few lines of cocaine on the table. Fuck.

AJ was on his feet and lumbering towards him. AJ reached out to grip Ryan's t-shirt. He struggled, he didn't go down without a fight. He was blindsided by the punch to the side of his face. He blinked away the pain and fought back.

AJ.

10 minutes later, he was down the street with nothing but his bike, his backpack, and a few bruises. He cuffed at his bleeding lip and nose. Blood smeared over his fingers.

"Fuck." he breathed.

Ryan biked to where he knew he would end up the second AJ blindsided him.

It was a hole in the wall shop, surrounded by barbed wire and rummaged cars. It fronted as a mechanic, but everyone knew it wasn't. It moved around, from here to there, whenever the cops sniffed close.

It was a chop shop for the Mexican Mafia Black Angels, a Chicano gang. Ryan wasn't in the gang, neither were his friends, that were just outside cheap labour, poor kids, from bad families, looking for somewhere to be. Poor kids that could easily be arrested, but who were guaranteed to keep their mouths closed. Juan was sitting outside the shop, covered to the elbows in grease, smoking a cigarette.

"Esse, that's a face I wasn't expecting to see again, anytime soon. I heard you got popped."

"Yeah, Trey's expecting 3 to 5."

Juan looked at him incredulous.

"What with your record you got out? Saw you, two previous convictions for stolen property and grand theft auto, and they let you out? Lucky white boy. I go in there again and you won't be seeing me, for a long damn time." Juan laughed.

Ryan sat down heavily beside him, and Juan wordlessly handed him a rag, stained with oil. Ryan didn't care, he rubbed off the drying blood from his face.

"Man can I stay with you tonight?"

Juan was one of his best friends and had been since they were locked up together as hard eyed 14 year olds, in a security group home. But Ryan knew the answer to the question before he asked it man.

"You know man, I can't. You got AJ, I got Ramone, he would bust my ass if I brought you home."

Ryan nodded, looking off in the distance, gently touching the puffy flesh around his eye. Juan took a drag from his cigarette and offered the pack to Ryan.

'Why don't you stay with your lady?"

Ryan laughed.

"My lady?"

"You know that sexy latina princess you've been banging for three years?"

Ryan smiled, trust Juan to make everyone sound like a hooker.

"You forget who that 'sexy Latina princess' big brother is? You think 'Turo would let me sleep on his couch when he knew I was doing his sister? Cos he would know, I wouldn't stay on that couch."

Juan elbowed him and smiled.

"Damn Atwood. Lucky fucking white boys! You think I can get a Latina princess? Do those sexy Latinas save any for the good Spanish boys like me? No, their too busy putting out for white boys." Juan was grinning, he had been hassling him about his whiteness since the day they first met. Ryan frequently told him he was just upset because Ryan spoke Spanish as good as him and got double the action, from Latinas or otherwise.

Pain was settling in his joints as he stood up taking a final drag of his cigarette.

"Where ya headed?"

"You seen Josh around?" Josh couldn't exactly put him up, but he could get him somewhere to sleep.

"Ya man, like an hour ago, down by the junkyard picking through car parts for Diego."

Ryan hit his fist with Juan's mixing grease with his own left over blood.

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**tbc**  



	3. Atwood Luck

**Disclaimer:** I love the OC, but I don't own it.

**A/N:** Hope this is getting further away from the show for you. Review if you love angsty Ryan, because imprisioned Ryan is coming up next.

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Josh was squatting by a pile of old carburetors when Ryan found him. 

"Hey J!" Ryan called out to him.

Josh looked up, his hands, t-shirt and jeans stained with grease. Josh rarely smiled, he had little to smile about, Ryan knew. Yet, he and Josh had been friends for a few years. They shared a penance for fighting and both could throw a punch. They were known throughout the small streets of Chino, if they were together, they were a pair not to cross.

"Ryan! Thought you'd be knee deep serving a nickel by now." He spoke not looking at him, rather his eyes still on the carburetors.

Ryan shook his head. Shrugged his shoulders. "Juan chalks it up to white boy luck."

"I never see none of that white boy luck, on this side." Josh replied, gesturing to himself, his surroundings.

"Man, trust me; I don't know what the hell went on. Trey's up at the Penn, and I get this bleeding heart lawyer, who wants to talk about how similar we are." Ryan touched his face gingerly, the bleeding had stopped.

"But then my luck ran out, I wanted to know if you could hook me up with a place to crash?" Ryan hated asking for favours. It was that stupid 'real men don't ask for help' ideal that his father had implanted in him.

Josh was nodding.

"Hope you don't expect too much. I'm squatting, with my boys in an old warehouse up on 23rd."

Ryan had always pitied Josh, he'd never told him such, never told anyone, and never expressed it in anyway. But he'd always felt a stab of guilt, even if his Mom was a drunk, and AJ beat the shit out of him, he had something. He had a home, no matter how crappy, he went to school, even if he blew it off most of the time. Before whenever he saw Josh, his clothes caked in grease, stoned, his face carved in stone, he would feel that stab. No one knew his story. Ryan wasn't feeling that way anymore. The playing field had levelled out, he had exchanged a prison cell, for an abandoned factory, and he wasn't sure if he wasn't better off in jail.

"Ry, I'll be done here in a few, figure we can pick up some beer, and head over. Celebrate your get out of jail free card?"

Ryan smiled, Josh smirked ever so slightly.

"Sounds good, I'll be back at the garage."

Picking up beers to Josh, meant of course, stealing beers. Ryan certainly didn't care about that; he'd been trained how to steal, and how to do it properly, in his stints, by his brother, and his friends.

Lifting a few beers from a corner store certainly wasn't a problem.

The street Josh led him to, was abandoned. Several factories, in various states of decay, left to rot, when the state of California had practically laid off its working class population and instead imported from China. They both drank a beer, in the darkening street, chatting amicably of things they always chatted about; girls, sex, cars, and Chicano gossip. Sometimes combining all four in one juicy story, Josh eleaborated.

"You know Maria? Maria Valmuerez? Well she's Diego's old lady, yesterday he goes to do a little work on that Camero- the bright blue with the white racing stripe and the V8 under the hood? There is his old lady, going at it with Santiago! You know that new kid. Diego whooped that fool's ass. Who knows what he did with Maria, but damn!"

"Damn!" Ryan echoed. " But J, Camero's are a bit of a sore spot with me right now."

The top floor of the factory, a place where the foreman had once presided over his kingdom, was where Josh squatted. It wasn't bad, stacks of cardboard boxes, a few blankets. Josh's 'boys', were a variety of kids from the neighbourhood, most whom Ryan knew from the garage, a party, juvie, or foster care.

Ryan chugged the remainder of his beers, and took hits off passing joints, while listening to elaborated and cooked stories of sexual exploits. He laughed along with the rest of them, even piping in once or twice.

On his empty stomach, the beer and weed was churning in his stomach, his head was growing heavy. He was glad when the group dispersed, and began to sleep around the room. Ryan too, found a corner, wrapped himself in a hoody from his backpack, and quickly fell asleep in a near stupor.

Ryan felt himself being jerked awake, as someone ran past him.

"Motherfucking po-lice." He heard someone else cry out. Everyone seemed to be running, everyone seemed to be going somewhere. Ryan was new to squatting, where was he supposed to run to? What did the police care about a few stoned kids in an abandoned factory, on an abandoned street? Yet still they were there, he was trying to navigate himself to the stairs, when a light shinned in his eyes and he was down on his stomach, his hands behind his back.

Out only 16 hours, he thought bitterly and he was being sent back. So much for fucking white boy luck. It was all Atwood bad luck.

He felt slow, stupid and tired in the back of the police wagon. Josh wasn't there, good for him, he thought. Yet the boys that were there looked guiltier than they should, for simply being picked up squatting.

The boy beside him, Hector, he'd known at school. Ryan may have beaten the shit out of him at one point over a girl, he really wasn't sure, the details were fuzzy. But he did know him.

"What's up? You got something else going on here?"

Hector shook his head. "Someone must have ratted out our operation."

Oh, shit. Motherfucking shit. Operation? Ryan was seeing years added on to his sentence, his arraignment for grand theft auto was going to seem like a breeze.

"Operation?" Ryan asked.

"We've got a little meth in the basement. That shit was supposed to be golden, didn't even get a fucking taste, motherfucker." Hector swore empathetically.

"A little meth?" Ryan sighed. "Like a meth lab?" He grinded his teeth, his head pounding.

"Yeah man."

Possession, intent, and trafficking. He was going to kill Josh, going to kill AJ, gonna Kick his own ass, for landing himself in this piss-poor situation.

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**TBC**  



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